The Counselor's Maid
by Ana Muune
Summary: Commissioned fanfiction/Unfinished. When Tiffany is falsely accused, she needs a lawyer and bail and she needs it fast. On that confusing night, it seemed like a good idea to hire Alex, but when she gets his bill... She's in some real trouble now.
1. Chapter 1

Original: link in profile

Fanfiction of IILuxuria's original characters and plot prompt. I do not own the following characters: Tiffany, Alex, Sylvia, Vincent, Dante, and Natalia. All other characters are my creation. Please feel free to review with criticisms, suggestions and requests.

* * *

 **1**

 **Jailbird**

The big city with its shining lights and skyscrapers, beautiful people and sophisticated conversation. That had been her dream. That had been why she'd moved from her crummy little hovel town and into Starling City. Anyone could be anything in Starling City, that's what they'd said. It didn't matter that she was no one and nothing before because in Starling City, dreams came true.

That was a load of horseshit.

And god, did she hope she didn't have to clean horse shit again. It paid well enough but it was disgusting work. The money in her pocket would keep her warm for a while longer and maybe in that time, something better would come up and she wouldn't have to go back to the stables again next week. She doubted that though.

Tiffany rubbed her arms against the fall chill as she wound her way back to the slums of Starling City in the night. As she wound through an alleyway, she heard a clatter in the distance. She paused briefly, trying to identify where the sound was coming from, but the noise had bounced around the alleys and seemed to come from everywhere. She picked up her pace, wanting to be through this shortcut and back into the lit streets. Someone yelled out in anger and Tiffany swallowed nervously, her brown eyes flitting around.

"Stop!" the words echoed in the alleyways. Tiffany picked up her pace again, jogging down the alleyway to escape the situation. Last thing she wanted was to run into anyone and become a witness. As she turned the corner, abruptly she was tackled. She groaned as she hit the hard cobblestones, dazed and acutely aware of someone holding her down.

She tried to speak, but her mouth was dry and cottony. Her lips moved, but only a hoarse cough escaped as she tried to focus her eyes. The light from a doorway obscured her attacker and moments later a police officer rounded the same corner, blowing his whistle. Tiffany had never been so relieved to see a man in blue, thanking her lucky stars that she would not be raped or killed that night. He pulled the attacker off of her and leaned over her, aiming his flashlight in her eyes. She turned away with a hiss of pain as the light intensified her headache. She couldn't understand what he was saying, but realized he was rifling through her pockets now. He held the wad of cash that she'd been paid over her head and seemed immensely proud of himself...

Tiffany wasn't sure what was going on, but it became harder and harder to focus until she had to give into the throbbing darkness.

When she awoke, she was in a dingy cell. There were bars on all sides of her and beyond the bars in front of her was a pudgy, tattooed man standing upside down on the ceiling.

 _Wait, he's not the one upside down,_ her mind chided. She rolled off the bench she was laying on and immediately had to hurry to the corner of the cell to puke. Her head killed and her throat was so parched that she could _kill_ for water. Her vision was still a little blurry and dazed. She touched her head, feeling the tenderness where she'd hit the ground. _That's gonna hurt for a while_.

Someone banged a nightstick against the bars of her cell. She turned to see a nondescript police officer in his forties, overweight and obviously used to harassing the cellmates. His mouth stretched into a sneer under his uneven, bushy mustache, "Finally awake are you, thief?"

She had to swallow and lick her lips several times before she could get a word out, "Thief?"

"That's right. We caught you in the act, so don't bother denying it," he grinned maliciously.

"I didn't steal anything!" she insisted.

"Save it for the judge," he laughed, running his nightstick across the bars as he left.

"Hey!" she croaked out. "What about my phone call?! Don't I get to call someone?"

He ignored her, but that was probably just as well. Who was she going to call? She was alone and poor. She had no one in her hometown and she'd been too busy working to make friends in Starling. She sunk down against the bars, sitting next to her puke, feeling truly as pathetic as she looked. She lowered her pounding head onto her knees and closed her eyes against the world.

* * *

It was time for his monthly pro bono case. Alex sighed, knowing it was a PR necessity to balance out the indulgent ways he spent his free time, but he still didn't like it. It was such a drag to represent some stupid oaf that had gotten caught breaking and entering for a high or killed someone in a fit of senseless rage or jealousy without even thinking about how to get away with it. Sometimes it pained him to see what a disappointment the criminal element was when it came to mental acuity but at such times, he assuaged himself with the belief that the intelligent criminals just didn't get caught so he was looking at a biased sample in the prison cells before him.

He wandered past the cells, glancing through the files the police officer at the door had handed him for slipping him a fifty.

 _One worthless idiot after another_ , he sighed internally. _Third peeping charge? Doesn't he know about the internet? Breaking and entering, boring. Robbery, how banal-._

He blinked down at the case file again and peered into the cell he'd just been about to walk past.

"It's a girl," he remarked out loud as though it wasn't the most obvious statement in the world. She drew her head up to look at him and a tingle of anticipation shot up Alex's spine. Those big, brown, _confused_ eyes were just begging to be harassed. God, how he'd love to take that long braided hair and yank on it or wrap it around her throat like a collar…

But she was filthy and smelled. No matter how pretty she might've been underneath the smudged dirt, he wasn't at the prison cells to pick up a stray. He turned away from her shivering form to focus on the usual thuggish suspects.

That's when she sneezed.

He felt his resistance squirm lower into the pit of his stomach and a defeated sigh escaped his lips. He turned back to her and drawled in an almost bored fashion, "Hey you." He glanced at her file for her name and the details of her case, "Tiffany Valentine. Caught stealing eight hundred dollars, a diamond ring and a couple of other items. Oh, but they only recovered a hundred and fifty cash. Did you stash the rest of it?"

Tiffany looked at him blankly for a long moment before creeping closer to the bars. She squinted her eyes at him, "Do I know you?" It was an empty question. She was well aware that she knew no one who would visit her in jail - let alone someone dressed in a fine, tailored silk suit like that one.

"Since you were stealing petty cash, I'm guessing that you don't have enough money to pay for a decent lawyer. Well, guess what Ms. Valentine, today could be your lucky day," he grinned.

"What do you mean?" she asked him. Her head was still killing her and the throbbing made it really hard to think. What she was sure of though, was that the glint in this man's eyes was not to be trusted.

"I'll do you a favor. I'll represent you as your lawyer," Alex offered, almost too casually.

"I don't want any favors from you," she stated. Alarm bells were ringing in her head. She continued, "I'll wait for a legal aid lawyer."

Alex's eyes narrowed in amusement. He'd never had someone _refuse_ his services. Even the most grizzled, muscular men became frightened putty once they were actually in the prison system, whether they let others see their fear or not. Imprisonment and loss of freedom made most people panicked beasts. He said slowly, "You're turning down one of the most accomplished lawyers in the city. I have had the highest rate of cases won for the last three years and counting. You sure you want to turn me away so easily?"

"If you're that good, you'll cost a fortune. I can't pay you," Tiffany gritted her teeth.

Alex watched that delicate jaw tightened and those slim hands wrap themselves around the bars subconsciously. His interest in her stirred and he found himself saying, "How about this. I'll cut my hourly rate by twenty percent for you."

"Why would you do that?" she frowned.

"Because your case is easy. It'll take no time at all. And trust me, you don't want to spend a couple days in here while the legal aid lawyer gets his head out of his ass long enough to figure out where you are. They won't keep you in this cell for much longer either. You'll be transferred to the prison until your case is cleared unless you can pay bail. I should let you know, there isn't a female only prison in the city."

Tiffany's eyes opened wide in panic. She'd be transferred to an actual prison? Even before it was proven she was guilty? And… she'd be locked in with men?

"I can't pay bail!" she cried.

"Don't worry. My practice will handle all the expenses up front," Alex slipped in smoothly.

"O-okay," she agreed quickly. The fear was making her head throb harder. "Okay, what do I have to do?"

"Just give me a minute to put together some paperwork," he smirked.

* * *

Tiffany had signed so many times that she'd lost track of what she was even signing. She was simply following Alex's command of "sign here... and here," as she put pen to paper.

The headache she had must be a concussion, she gathered. It hurt to think. She just wanted to curl up and surrender to the darkness. After signing what felt like every piece of paper in the building, she stumbled through the hallways at Alex's direction. As they stood in the open air in front of the police station, he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Bus," she muttered. "Need to find a bus back home."

"You look like you're about to pass out. I'll take you home in my car. You can't very well pay me back for the bail I just paid if you're dead on a bus somewhere," he said matter-of-factly. "Ah, here's my car."

She didn't argue. She didn't have the strength to argue. She climbed into the back of the expensive car and prayed silently to herself, _Don't puke on the leather. Don't puke on the leather._ Because the last thing she needed was to add paying for the car to be cleaned on top of whatever she needed to pay this guy. The dim setting of the car blurred her surroundings even further than her concussion and before she knew it, the last vestiges of her strength escaped her and she surrendered to sleep.

He slid into the seat after her and after he was buckled turned to ask her where she lived. Finding her dead to the world, he sighed in annoyance. He could've looked up her address in her file, but then that would mean going inside whatever meager shack she lived in and hauling her in there himself. So instead, he muttered, "Let's go home. I'll get the maids to find her a room for the night."


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

 **A Lion's Stare**

When Tiffany awoke, her surroundings confused her deeply. Sitting up in a four poster bed of dark wood and purple silk sheets, she was surrounded by furnishings of muted elegance; the fluffy purple carpet, the window seat with the curved wings and lace curtains filtering in the light. Warm, yellow, and patterned sunlight washed the room, enticing her to simply settle back into the bed and enjoy the peace this moment had brought her. It allowed her to pretend that this was her real life and _that_ terribleness had simply been a nightmare.

But then, no one could say that she was a dreamer. Cynical thoughts nagged at her until she pulled herself from bed. She noted that she was still wearing the dirty clothes that she'd been arrested in-

That's right... She'd been arrested! Then she'd been bailed out by that gorgeous, but haughty lawyer. Was this beautiful oasis his house?

 _Of course he'd have a beautiful house_ , she told herself with bitter jealousy. As she nudged the door open and peeked into the hallway beyond, she was amazed at the size of the place. This was certainly no condo in the downtown core of the city, let alone her little flat in the slums. She approached the large picturesque window in front of her to see the property's beautiful gardens laid before her; perennial flowers and bushes with vibrant fall colors winked happily at her as she spied a gardener trimming away flyaway carefully to maintain the illusion of perfection. The gardens gave way to some open space and then a forest beyond that.

"You're awake," a voice called her attention.

Tiffany turned to see a girl with a short bob of russet red hair and startling green eyes considering her. Her gaze was so clinical that Tiffany had the dizzying feeling of being in a doctor's office.

The woman continued, "If you'll follow me please, Mr. Sterling would like to get started on your case." The woman pivoted immediately, expecting Tiffany to follow.

Tiff paused for a moment, blinking in confusion as to who "Mr. Sterling" was but then assumed that must be the name of the lawyer she'd hired. In the fresh light of day, she was starting to doubt the wisdom of hiring a lawyer that could afford a house like this. She jogged quickly to catch up to the woman and asked, "Excuse me, who are you?"

"My name is Erica Silver. I'm Mr. Sterling's personal assistant," she responded, her manner very no-nonsense and businesslike. They descended a set of stairs to the first floor and the house continued to awe Tiffany. It had high ceilings, heavy old wood and details of such a wonderful artisanship that there was no way that this wasn't a family home passed down through the generations. The quality of the workmanship was beyond reproach. However, there were clear indications that the house had been remodeled to fuse the heritage charm with modern functionality and style.

Erica led Tiffany into a large study where one glass wall opened into a shaded patio of grey stones and the opposite wall was replete with books on law and science. Behind the heavy desk sat the lawyer that had rescued her from prison the evening before. Erica announced, "Ms. Tiffany Valentine for you Mr. Sterling. If you'll please take a seat, Ms. Valentine?" Tiffany took the offered chair Erica had pulled out for her hesitantly, but Erica didn't seem to notice. Once Tiffany was settled, Erica turned to Alex, "I will see to some arrangements for breakfast for Ms. Valentine."

The woman seemed to wait expectantly on Alex, who simply nodded, "Yes. I'll get started here." With the subtle dismissal, Erica turned away again and disappeared back out into the house.

Leaving Tiffany alone to face the man. There was an odd sparkle of amusement in his eyes as he considered her from across the table making Tiffany wonder what was so funny about a burglary case. He unsettled her greatly.

"Thank you for bailing me out last night," she said, wanting to start on a positive note. She took a deep breath and explained, "Unfortunately, I don't think we should take this any further. I'll find another lawyer to handle my case."

"Why's that?" he asked her.

"Well Mr. Sterling-," she started.

"Alex. Call me, Alex," he suggested.

Tiffany shook her head, "Well, _Mr. Sterling_ , I feel like these aren't really the type of cases you take on normally. And I'm definitely not the kind of client you take on normally, so instead of inconveniencing you, I think I should just find a new lawyer."

"You signed a contract, _Tiffany_ ," he smiled. "I'm afraid it isn't possible to renege on our agreement. I've already incurred costs in bailing you out."

"I'll pay you back for that, of course-," Tiffany said.

"Oh, you will. But that doesn't make our contract void," his lips stretched into a smirk. "You'll just have to see this to the end."

"That's absurd," Tiffany frowned.

"That's the law. You signed a contract and the only way to back out from it is for both parties to agree." He emphasized his words by speaking each word slowly, "I do _not_ agree."

Tiffany swallowed and pressed her lips together in displeasure. Her helpless frown assured Alex that she had no rebuttal for his argument, so he forged ahead.

"Looking at your case, it seems pretty open and shut. You got caught stealing red-handed, so there isn't much to do. I can probably make you pitiable enough to get away with community service since this is your first offence, if you tell the judge where the rest of the stuff you stole is," Alex rattled off.

"But I'm innocent!" she insisted, realizing that Alex was under the impression that she had stolen.

"Really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Really!" she exclaimed. "I didn't steal anything!"

"Then where did the hundred and fifty come from?" he questioned.

"A hundred and fifty? I got paid two hundred from Estrada Stables last night. I should've had two hundred dollars on me!" Tiffany cried out in frustration.

"Interesting… You're a stablehand?" he leaned back in his plush chair and crossed his arms.

She shook her head, "No, not really. They needed an extra hand the last week since one of the stablehands was out sick, and I needed some extra money so…" She flushed in embarrassment, feeling acutely the difference between this man with his designer clothes and resplendent mansion and her need to clean horse shit to make ends meet. Their lives were worlds apart. She added quietly, "Normally, I waitress down at Maisey's Diner."

"Never heard of the place," Alex said, off-hand.

"It's… not exactly a place where you'd go," she muttered.

Alex returned his attention to the case, "If someone at Estrada remembers paying you, then we can prove that you had the money from there instead of stealing it. It doesn't prove that you didn't steal, but it creates reasonable doubt since they can no longer say they definitively found you with the stolen money."

"And then I'll be free?" Tiffany looked hopeful. The quicker this was over, the better chance she would be able to keep this lawyer's fees down to something she could pay back this _decade_.

"Should be," he shrugged.

The silence that settled over them was strange. Alex was still considering her with a smirk, making Tiffany feel like the haunch of a wildebeest being considered by a lion. Which confused her as she was hardly something to look at, especially after still being in her sweaty work clothes from working in the stables and smudged with dirt from her fall in the alleyway.

As the tension thickened to a point that made the silence unbearable for Tiff, Erica finally returned. She told Tiffany, "Ms. Valentine, The cook has put out a small breakfast in the small dining room for you and the maids will run a bath for you if you'd like."

"That's really not necessary," Tiffany blushed. "i should go home…"

"I will send for the car then," Erica nodded. "If you'll follow me."

As Tiffany stood to leave, Alex added, "I have your number. I'll be in touch when I hear about your court date. Until then, don't leave town and try to stay out of trouble."


	3. Chapter 3

3

Assets

Tiffany sighed in exhaustion as she sat down to eat her cup-a-soup ramen after a hot bath. She sat on the floor in front of the low wooden table in her one room apartment with the bathroom separated by a flower-patterned curtain. There wasn't a couch and her mattress was on the floor two feet from where she sat to eat her meals. There was a TV in front of her, but this far into the slums even the free channels didn't work since the infrastructure was broken down and no one bothered to replace it. She opted for reading through the flyers left in her mailbox to watching the static on the tiny television with the screen the size of her hand.

Silence in her apartment hardly meant silence though. There was the regular screaming of the couple on the floor above her, the drug addled rambling or puking of her next door neighbor and the usual disreputable sounds from the street below. An hour without a siren, gunshot or a scream was unheard of. It was far from the palatial mansion of Mr. Alex Sterling.

She sighed and was only spared from her despair as a flyer caught her eye. It was on a heavier paper with good graphics and after reading the ad, her eyes lit up. Her landlady - bless her heart for being a good woman - must have left this in her mailbox.

* * *

She did her best to dress nicely - it meant a faded black skirt and a red and white checkered shirt - and went to the library uptown to use their computers. After a lot of reading on the internet about how to make drinks, she headed down to The Tipsy Wench, a popular nightclub and bar.

When she entered, the place was dimly lit with bars on both side of the large room. Some of the strobelights were going, but no music played. There were a couple of guys cleaning the floors of the spilled drinks and puke from the night before and setting up a few tall, round tables by the dance floor.

Giggling caught Tifa's attention and she noticed a pleasantly build man with his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal his muscular forearms. He had a pen stuck behind his ear and his white shirt unbuttoned. The girl shamelessly flirting with him wore a low-cut tank top and was running her fingers across his chiselled abs. Tifa made herself focus and stopped one of the men cleaning to ask, "Excuse me, where can I find Mr. Klein?" The man motioned to the sexy man leaning against the bar and letting the flirtatious girl stroke his six-pack.

Tifa tried not to roll her eyes as she crossed the club towards Klein. The man saw her coming and as she stopped nearby, he told the other girl, "Bethany darling, why don't you go into the back and check out our selection of outfits? I'll come join you in a bit."

As Bethany wandered off, Mr. Klein turned his attention to Tifa.

"Mr. Klein? My name is Tiffany Valentine," she smiled confidently. "I'm responding to your ad for a part time bartender. I have a lot of customer service experience and have a great-."

"Woah, slow down, sweetheart," he laughed. "First of all, call me Dante. I hate being called Mr. Klein. You're… looking for a job as a bartender?"

There was a doubting tone in his voice that made Tifa swallow nervously, "Yes, um, has the position already been filled?"

"No, it isn't that," Dante smiled. "It's just that most of the girls that have applied so far have come on a little stronger with their… assets... than you are."

"Their… assets?" Tifa frowned. Dante's eyes lowered to her hidden breasts making Tifa's cheeks flame. "What does that have to do with bartending?!"

"A lot, sweetheart. A lot. Sexy bartenders mean more men coming in pretending there's a chance they'll get lucky if they keep buying drinks from you," Dante laughed. "Have you ever bartended before?"

"Not at a club," Tifa admitted. "I used to make drinks as part of my job while I waitressed at the restaurant back home."

"Ever made a Vampire's Dream?" he asked. At the slow shake of Tifa's head, he continued, "A fat-infused mezcal? A daiquiri slush? A sangria?"

Tifa's heart sank and her voice wavered as she insisted, "I'm a fast learner…"

"I bet you are, sweetheart," Dante shrugged.

Tifa's stance deflated as her confidence evaporated. She couldn't believe the way this impromptu interview was going. After all the reading she'd done in preparation, she'd really hoped that she could've at least made a decent first impression. Why was it that he was mentioning drinks that she hadn't heard of? Were fancy drinks really that popular?

Noting how discouraged she looked, Dante couldn't help but feel a chord of sympathy. The girl was cute enough by regular standards, but needed some cleaning up if she was going to pass muster at his club. But, he supposed if it was just a part time position, he could entertain one lost cause. There was something delightfully conceited in thinking that he might be able to turn this plain jane into a 10 on the hot girl scale. Dante looked her over and said, "Unbutton your shirt."

Tifa's gaze snapped up to meet his; her eyes wide, "What?"

"You want this job? Unbutton your shirt a little and let's see some curves," Dante offered. "You've gotta show off more cleavage if you want to work here, sweetheart. It's part of the dress code, I'm afraid."

Tifa swallowed and with nervous hands, fumbled with the buttons of her shirt. It was just cleavage - she could do that, she told herself. One button, two buttons and then the third slipped open. She rose her eyes to his again, blinking anxiously.

"Relax," he told her soothingly. "I'm not going to eat you, sweetheart. You must really want this job if you're willing to do this even though it's making you uncomfortable."

Tifa recalled Alex's hungry gaze and his impending bill. She took a deep breath, "I _need_ this job."

Dante considered her and then nodded, "Alright, I'll give you a try. But you gotta get over your nervousness. You'll have to flirt and dress sexy to sell as many drinks as you can. But don't worry. We have bouncers here to make sure none of the customers get too handsy. We're a respectable place, all things considered. We offer the customers a fantasy, but we don't whore out our bartenders."

"I can do that!" Tifa nodded eagerly.

"Alright, then. Why don't we try you out tonight and we'll go from there. You free tonight?" he asked.

"Yes! Yes I am!" Tifa smiled widely at him, relieved that someone was willing to give her a chance. Picking up a few bartending shifts might ease some of the strain on her financial situation if the tips were as good as she'd heard.

* * *

"Yes, you have to wear that," Dante laughed, taking the girl's elbow and tugging her to him behind the bar. Taken by surprise, she fell into his arms; her blush deepening.

"I didn't say anything!" she protested. Dante had sent her in the back where they kept the costumes for theme nights and with the help of one of the performers, Tifa had come back wearing a tight strappy top with cutouts. There was one benefit to not being able to afford much food - she was as slim as ever.

"But you were thinking it, weren't you?" he chuckled, straightening her onto her feet and motioning for her to follow his down the bar. He showed her where everything was and how to stand so that she was within arms reach of everything she could need. By the time the early-bird customers trickled in at eight, Tifa had already made a few simple drinks for Dante.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this!" Tifa smiled widely.

Dante and the other bartender beside her guffawed at her enthusiasm. The dark-skinned goddess bartending to her left grinned, "You ain't seen nothin' yet, darling. Knowing how to make the drinks is just half the battle. Keeping 'em coming fast enough to please the customers is the real test."

And man, was she ever right. As the night deepened and the music started really thrumming, Lucinda made it look easy; flirting with the customers, listening to them, telling them stories to keep them entertained and all the while her hands never stopped moving to serve the drinks. Meanwhile, there was Tifa struggling to keep up with simply making the drinks!

"Need a hand?"

Tifa looked over her shoulders at Dante, who smiled softly at her. He'd put his dark brown locks back into a low ponytail, showing off the compass tattoo on the side of his neck. He didn't wait for her to answer as he gently bumped her over and began to hammer out the drinks. It was almost hypnotizing to watch the ease with which he moved; shaking, pouring, and talking. Money exchanged hands with winks and laughter.

Tifa wasn't the kind of girl to get discouraged easily. If she had been, she would've moved back to her tiny little hometown after her first week in Starling City. She took a deep breath, stepped up beside Dante and took another order. The man's gaze flicked over to her with a mixture of interest, amusement and pride. He grinned, and for the next two hours, the two danced around one another as they made drinks. They bumped into each other often but it was almost fun trying to synchronize their movements.

It wasn't until his hands ran across her lower back as he reached across her to hand a customer his drink that Tifa really had a problem. Nervous anticipation shot up her spine like an electric shock. His calloused fingers had run over her exposed skin where the top had several cut-outs across her back.

She flushed, glad that Dante hadn't noticed. She couldn't believe her body would betray her like that in such a situation. She had to focus on impressing Dante enough to keep this job, not sleep with him!

Though it had been a while since she'd been out with anyone. She'd been so focused on working and making ends meet for so long that she just didn't have time for a life!

 _Sex can be pretty impressive_ , her treacherous mind suggested. _Employee with benefits. And god, that tattoo is delicious…_

Her blush deepened and she had unknowingly stopped working, prompting Dante to look upon her closely. He queried, "You alright, Tiff? You had enough?"

"Tifa," she replied.

"What?"

"Tifa. I like being called Tifa, not Tiff," she gave him a wavering smile as she internally scolded herself for her lecherous thoughts. Her voice gained more confidence as she grinned, "And I'm just getting started. I'll get the hang of this before you know. All I need is for you to give me a chance."

Dante considered her with amusement twinkling in his eyes. His head fell slightly to the side as he narrowed his eyes on her slim frame and long braid. Tifa was acutely aware of his eyes sliding down her body and then up again; drinking her in slowly. Tifa waited for Dante's next words in anticipation. Was it just her or was there a hint of palpable sexual tension between them?

 _You're imagining it_ , she insisted to herself. _He's around girls ten times hotter than you every day. You're definitely just imagining it because you want those hands to-._ She mentally clamped the lid on that thought process to refocus her attention as Dante opened his mouth.

"I like your attitude, Tifa," he said her name as though he was savoring a delicious morsel. "You're hired."

Tifa flashed him a brilliant, grateful smile.


	4. Close

**This fanfiction is closed for the foreseeable future. I apologize to the readers.**

Please check out my other works if you enjoyed this story.

 _Thanks!_


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